


The Sheriff and Bandito

by Senora_Luna



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Bondage, Canon fun maybe, Coco Locos Smut Off, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hector is a con man, Law Enforcement, Punishment, Roleplay, Trapped, You know he was a handful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 15:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18033908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senora_Luna/pseuds/Senora_Luna
Summary: Hèctor Rivera has always had a disregard for the law. Imelda's finally tired of it and decides to teach him a lesson.





	The Sheriff and Bandito

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! Made it. 
> 
> Prompt: Roleplay. 
> 
> For our wonderful canon OTP.

“Gracias por Dios you’re here, I can explain,” Hèctor declares, smiling sheepishly, hopping up from the bench in the jail cell and raising his shoulders. He was in an enormous woolen poncho that thankfully fell to his knees because he was missing his pants, and shoes.

“How did this happen?” Imelda barely manages the words-her voice so caught between confusion and outrage.

“Soooo…I have an entirely valid reason for this. You know everyone plays in the plaza for Dia De Muertos, annnnd, I _misunderstood_ , the sign up date.” Already he’s weaving his hands through the bars, (and she considers if he was just little scrawnier he could squeeze out) at least the best he can from the iron shackles around his wrists. “And Imelda, you wouldn’t _believe_ how unreasonable they were being oh ‘the roster is full’ and, ‘it’s not fair to everyone else’-discrimination at its finest!” He points a finger to the sky emphasizing his plight. “-Don’t _I_ count as everyone?”

“Get to the point.” There isn’t an ounce of pity in Imelda’s voice, so his tone quickens. From the way she folds her arms it’s clear he’ll have to turn on the charm. A little difficult to brush one’s hair back with handcuffs so he tries a dazzling (or perhaps ridiculous he’d been told by those jealous) smile.

“Uh well-so-seeing as the city counsel was being _so_ unfair I felt it was my civic duty to adjust this situation-and can you imagine how devastated Ernesto would have been when I told him we couldn’t-“

“Hèctor!”

“Right! So-I _had_ to salvage the situation and put my name on the list because hey, what’s the harm done adding one’s name to a list? Not a crime!”

“…And care to explain where the breaking and entering happened?”

“Sooo to get to said list I, uh, had to make sure no one was looking, since they’d made such a fuss before-those secretaries mean business-so I thought I’d, go when the council was closed…and I wasn’t about to break the door open and fight the guard Imelda I’m not an _animal_ -“

“You thought picking a window open was appropriate!”

“It was _one_ window! It’s not like I kicked down the door or broke the glass, I just fumbled with the latch-”

“That’s breaking in Hèctor!”

“Well it’s not like I was gonna steal anything-I was just there to sign my name is all!”

“So explain the public indecency!” Imelda snapped, silencing Hèctor instantly. Once more he put on his attempt of a ‘charming’ smile.

“So uh, well I didn’t want any bad blood between the council and I-so I just considered, you know, a disguise might be helpful, in case people were uptight about the fact I was remedying this situation-”

“-Skip to the point!”

“Well it was just a poncho and hat-and uh so I got inside-and the floor was so squeaky I took off my shoes-and you wouldn’t believe those guard dogs are so fast-“

“ ** _Hèctor.”_**

“A-dog-bit-my-trousers-and-I-undid-my-suspenders-to-get-away-then-they-were-waiting-outside-and-now-I’m-here.” He spit out the words frantically, then added a timid brow raise and laugh, waving his hand like he had just told her the most hilarious anecdote in the world.

“…You have to be joking.”

“Right, ‘cause it’s just so…funny…you know?” He laughed again trying to add a playful poke to her shoulder.

Imelda did not even crack a smile.

In an instant his demeanor changed, hands going into a prayer stance. _“Por favor,_ tell me you can pull some strings-you’ve got a family connection you know? Imelda I can’t be here all night what if they put a real criminal in here-what if they hold me for months!? I have a concert next week-,”

“Why should I, I don’t get the impression you’re taking this seriously.” The coolness of her gaze brought him to his knees in a mock prostration, declaring oh so theatrically.

“ _Imelda,_ mi amor, smartest woman I’ve ever known or will in my life-,”

“-Save it.” The words fell like a hammer and he let his hands go slack in the irons, looking up with a sigh. The performance fell away to a more sincere bashful look.

“All right I…jumped to conclusions. But you know-they also jumped to conclusions-.”

“You took advantage of the fact I could pull strings if you were caught.”

“Er-…that too.”

“So, what are we going to do about this?” Imelda asks, crouching down, a hand lifting Hèctor’s chin delicately.

“…I’m going to uh…apologize to the council.” He mutters, avoiding her gaze like a grumbling boy.

“Try harder.”

“I’m going to…uh…write a very nice letter,” She clears her throat and he winces with a sigh. He’s been here before-like when he accidently let the Garcias’ horse out-or accidently broke the wheel off old man Tito’s wagon-or accidently lost those good napkins-and he always hates the answer. “I could…maybe work for them for free…to you know maybe…show I…learned my lesson.” He grumbles reluctantly.

“So some community service?”

“…Yeah, sure.” There’s no bother to even hide his reluctance.

“You don’t sound very sincere…” In an instant Imelda releases his chin, “Maybe a day or two in the cell and making some bandito friends would help you reflect about the importance of law abidance?” She’s stands, and swings around letting the echoing clack of her heel on the wooden panel thunder through him.

“Wait! Imelda! I’ll do anything! I mean-“ He reaches out for her as far as he can in the shackles, jumping to his feet, “I take this _very_ seriously. If the Sheriff were here right now I’d get on my knees and recite to him just how important law and rules and yada yada are to me!”

The words hang in the air-and for a moment he’s terrified she won’t respond. He’ll be left there all evening, alone, half dressed, waiting for the sheriff to arrive in the morning. Or worse an even more viscious criminal to get thrown in with him. Then she pauses in her step.

Thank the Lord there were no other banditos in the lock up with him. Thank the Lord the sheriff wasn’t there to see him pleading half naked like this. The jail house was a simple little cube of a building in Santa Ceiling-one large holding cell directly behind the Sheriff’s desk. The keys to everything, including his freedom, provocatively dangled on the wall. Reminding him just how helpless he was to achieve his own freedom.

Imelda spun on her heel swiftly, looking at him with a gaze so intense his stomach sank. Her painted lashes hung heavy over her irises making them nearly diamonds, like a threatening alley cat’s that one stumbles into during the darkness. Eyes glowing in warning for any trespasser.

Slowly, running her fingers along the raised brims, she picks up the sheriff’s lazily hanging hat from the desk chair. After a second’s fondling she put it on over her tied up bun. Before Hèctor could form his question she spoke.

“I’m the sheriff then. Let’s hear it Rivera.”

“Ha-what-“

“Did I stutter?” Imelda neared the bars once more, until she was so close the pleats of her skirt pressed between them.

“You’re not going to make me actually-owch!” It didn’t take much, just the gentle pressure of her boot against his sock covered foot to make him leap with alarm. It was more surprising than painful but it makes it very clear she’s not joking. Fine. He’s more likely to win her favor as the repentant criminal than the sheriff’s if he’s going to get out of this cell tonight. “All right, all right, Imelda I get it-”

“You can call me Sheriff.” The crispness of her tone assures him to pick his next words carefully. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel over a head taller than her at all. With her arms crossed, shoulders back, chin up, gaze piercing-it suddenly feels as though she towers over him. With a soft swallow he drops the overdramatic showmanship and attempts a more persuasive, sincere, plea.

“… _Sheriff,_ I am sorry for what I did because the counsel was being so-,”

“I thought this was going to be on your knees Rivera.” Oh she was really going to take the role seriously wasn’t she? Ugn. Fine. Down to his knees once more he goes, the floor creaking at his weight.

“Sheriff. I am sorry the counsel was so difficult that I had to break into city hall.”

“That’s not an apology nor shows me you respect the law.” Oh God she was going to take this _very seriously._ It didn’t seem his tricks were going to work this time.  “Maybe the reality of this isn’t settling in on you what it means to be criminal Rivera. Skinny man like you? Maybe I’ll catch a bank robber tonight and he’ll decide to use you as toothpick.”

“Eh-heh-let’s all hope it doesn’t come to that since surely you’re here to let me out Imelda- wait come back!” He gasped as she suddenly turned away-his hands frantically grasping for the hem of her skirt.

“What was that?”

“… _Sheriff.”_ He sighs in defeat, crumpling her dress in his hands like it were a handkerchief. “Please let me out tonight-I don’t want to be someone’s toothpick. And I am sorry-I’m _really_ sorry.” There was a shift in her gaze, something a little more human, a little more forgiving than the death stare he’d been receiving before.

“And let you out to commit more crimes Rivera?” She snatched her skirt from his hands with harsh swoop.

“I can make it worth your while!” All right forget dignity and jokes, she meant business it was time for the schmoozing. He paused, a small smirk appearing as he leaned into the bars-as close he could. It was fun watching her brows jump as he brought to the hem of her skirts to his lips. “I’ll do _anything_ sheriff.”

“What do you think I’d want from a petty criminal?” She mused, but oh he knew that look. He had her eyes captured in that moment as they fixated upon his knelt form. Perfect. Winking he dropped her skirt and took hold of the poncho.

“Well Sheriff…take a good look since I’m sure even you can’t resist what a hermoso, guapo, criminal you have here…” Exposing his breeches to her gaze he tugged at the string slowly. “What if I…trade you my underclothes for the key eh?”

Something happened. Her brow twitched and it was difficult to see if it was good or bad, the shadow of the hat obscuring her brows. Either he’d _really_ intrigued or upset her with his further…’interpretation’ for the law. The five seconds of silence made the hair stand on edge across his exposed thighs.

“Fair. Hand them over.” Well that went better than expected. Hopping to his feet Hèctor waggled his brow at her, letting the poncho fall as he undid the laces (surprisingly well despite the handcuffs) then shimmed from the cotton. Imelda pinched the breeches between her thumb and index finger-then swung them over her shoulder like a casual belonging.

And then to his horror she turned to go.

“Uh-hey! Key-letting out-Imelda?!” He didn’t receive a response but instead she hung them on the hook next to the dangling keys.

“Càllate bandito.” She replied smoothly, striding back to the bars. “So you think you can earn your freedom with just a bit of fabric? Nice try.” Well shit. Now he was locked up and even more exposed. In an instant he felt a hot flush springing across his face as she eyed him so very smugly. Touche Imelda.

“Oh come _on_ , it was a gesture! A symbolic flag of peace I submit to the law and order of the sheriff and uh-whatever else you want-,” Suddenly she was reaching through the bars, yanking him taught against them by the poncho that he could feel the breath of her words against his neck.

“So are you willing to surrender your body over to the law? Submit to punishment?”

“I-…si.” He whispers, the chill on his legs suddenly intensified because of contrast from heat running to his groin. Damn now was not the time to get a random cockstand when she was clearly still peeved. No matter how much like a burst of steam her breath feels-or the way it tickles up his neck.

But it was impossible to ignore the thrill of this-the two of them caught in a game of chicken when she so usually ended the games before they could even begin. Who would come to their senses first and realize if the real sheriff showed up this would be a nightmare to explain. Even Imelda’s gaze was faltering, the challenging expression on her face filtering towards a smirk slowly. There was something undeniably fun about this.

“…Then show me what you’re offering bandito. Lift up the poncho.” She commands, eyes fixated on his own. Without moving from her grasp Hèctor obliges. The tassels trace over the tight, thin muscle along his thighs. They snag a few times, bristled between the thick, dark, leg hair. Adrenaline kick starts his heart the moment cool air and her gaze falls upon his semi-soft cock. No hiding the fun now. It was already perked a curious angle of attention by their game.

“Ta-…da…” His attempt at showmanship comes out breathlessly because her other hand has slipped through the bars-fingers landing in the curly brush of hair just above the shaft’s start. “I-…impressive aren’t I?” The rush was intense, creating a small hop in his cock toward her fingers.  

“Ha.” Now she is definitely smirking, eyes lifting up to up to his own.

“Why are you laughing?”  

“Nothing impressive yet, I just see a simple soft man.” Slowly she releases the poncho-stepping back-but keeping her other wrist through the bar. He dares not break eye contact as her fingers unravel from his pubic hair and dip to close around his cock. “Very soft.”

“Too soft for jail,” He quips back, finding another angle. Quickly, he flashes coy smile to meet her own.

“You should get harder.” To his dismay she steps away, releasing his growing cock to the cold stinging air from her humid grasp.

“Wha-,” He barely begins as she takes a seat in the sheriff’s chair, crossing her legs and folding her arms.

“Show me what a hardened criminal looks like.” She couldn’t be serious. Was she serious? The look in her eye sure was serious?

Ah fuck it, if he was going to be trapped in a jail cell for a night-and if he’d pissed her off to the point he wouldn’t expect attention for a long time-well might as well take what he can get right now.

“All right… _Sheriff.”_ Fine she wanted to play he’d play. Locking eyes with her, he spit into his palm waiting for any look of disapproval.

Not even a flinch in her expression.

With a twirl of his wrist he had hold of his cock-the cool metal of the handcuffs brushed it making his shoulders shiver. Her pleased chuckle only encouraged him to _really_ show her. Soft, warm weight, spilling over the tips of his long fingers, as he began a delicate stroke of skin up to the head-then down pulling back the darkened foreskin.

“Still looks soft to me.” Imelda muses, but her eyes are alight-betraying any sharpness in her tone. Well he was a performer after all-and now he didn’t dare disappoint. Spitting into his other hand Hèctor twisted it in the cuffs to fondle the slit of his cockhead, his thumb molding the slit’s shape, and making the shaft jolt up in increasing length.

“H-how’s that?” things were starting to get especially tight; the tension in his thighs made him feel he needed to take a seat. Her gaze, the stupid hat, the game, the pounding anticipation someone could come knocking with a question for the real sheriff and see their…unorthodox position-it had his heart thundering faster than a freight train.

“Better…but you still haven’t impressed me. I still see some…soft skin there.”

“Well it’s a little nerve wracking when anyone could walk in on us-….you know…” He manages, his breath has hitched in pace, taking all the theatrical posturing from his enunciation.  

“Not fun being a criminal is it?” Oh she looks smug now.

“Ha-ha.” Hèctor retorted with a cold look-as cold as possible at least with his face flushing the same shade of a hot summer run. “Who knows,” He replied petulantly, “Maybe I’ll make some nice bandito friends who appreciate my cunning wit and thrifty fingers.” He would stop stroking if the tension hadn’t become so unbearable because it certainly…downplayed his point.

“You expect them to help you come off?” Mierda she winning! And she knows it! Especially from how props her elbow on the armrest and leans her chin upon her fingers.

“Well maybe they will since they aren’t self-important sheriffs who hold the law above the love of their lives!” He retorts, stroking miserably, unable to go as fast as he _needs_ and it is getting painful. Despite trying to look angry his brows are betraying him, pressing high up his forehead with need. Nor will his voice cooperate, it comes out in a miserable creak, “O-or I’ll handle it alone.”

“Will you now? That will be impressive in handcuffs.”

“Uhuh,”

“Cat got your tongue Hèctor?”

“…” Focus on something else, anything else as he looks from her gaze to instead the small peak of cleavage her dress allowed. Desperately, he tried to imagine the uncensored sight, squeezing his eyes shut. Fantastic nipples, deep brown, inviting, warm, her soft stomach, then her supple thighs, and between them-mierda! There was no way he could stroke fast enough to keep up with his imagination. The irons were _heavy_ and even if he attempted to move both hands at once they threatened to smack him in the stomach or worse his groin.

“No problema?” Imelda nearly had a note of sing-song in her voice she was so triumphant.

“…Damn it.” He gives up, hands dropping, cock dangling forward and stinging with the heated pressure. The tip had become so red with blood and heat-precum dripping out like tears from agony.

“Something wrong bandito? Are you feeling the sting of justice?”

“Imelda,” He whined. Of course she looked away at the sound of her own name. “… _Sheriff.”_

“Si?”

“I-…what can I do to get these damn handcuffs off?” No he couldn’t beg-then she would win. Especially when defeat meant submitting to her absolutely anal standards for a man trying to fight against an unjust justice system. What was wrong with a little law bending every once…in a week? Well maybe she had a point now he reconsidered.

“What else do you have to offer bandito?” She leaned forward in the chair.

“You’ve already got my underwear and it’s not like I can get the poncho off in the irons!” He huffed back, impatience winning him over.

“Oh and here I thought you were going to make bandito amigos to help you with all your needs now that you’re a hardened criminal.” The tone is dripping with her victory and once again the sound of her heel on the wood-the folding of her arms it makes their heights feel reversed. She’s so calm, despite the tells on her face. Flushed cheeks, a faster rise of her bosom against the corset beneath her dress, even the tiny little gesture she does without thinking of brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well,” He forces a smile switching tactics, trying to lean against the bars and angle the handcuffs away. “We’re amigos too aren’t we sheriff? And…amigos help amigos. If I was out of these irons I could help you too?” It’s not even a subtle gesture the way he twirls his fingers to offer his attention.

“Amigos…”

“Amigos!” His smile is painful.

“I don’t think I’d be as kind as your bandito friends.” Christ how long was she going to drag this out!

“I’m _sure_ you’d do great-whatever you want-whatever you like-just like them or different!”

“Just like them? You mean some rowdy jail house bunking?” He nearly snorts at her wording, or he would if his cock wasn’t crying for attention, she’s so into the character now.

“Uhuh-anything-I’m nude and down for anything-can we just _please-,”_

“Turn around.” The command makes cock twitch up excitedly at the promise it holds. Fine he could play the repentant criminal if it got her hands on his cock.

“Oh si Sheriff, I am so sorry!” He spins around dramatically, holding up the poncho, reclining his back and rear against the cold bars. “I truly understand the weight of the law now-my wrongdoings-my sins-maybe if you can offer me a little discipline I can lea-RN!” He cuts off with a startled gasp because her hand has finally touched him. But not his cock. Instead he feels her wet fingers are tracing the divide along his ass.

“What’s the matter? I thought you wanted a rowdy roll in a jail cell with your amigo?”

“O-oh,” He looks over his shoulder giving her smirk that’s torn between how amusing it is to see her like this and how impatient he is for _something._ “So if I let the sheriff fuck me I can get out of here?”

“Now that’s an intriguing proposition.” The heat of her breath dances up the back of his neck. Jumping on the chance for her attention he reaches back the best he can with the irons and pries a cheek aside, further exposing himself in challenge. What a woman to not even flinch at what could be the vulgar part of a man. He can’t help but feel a twinge of admiration for her despite his desire to tell her off right now.

“Well _Sheriff._ If you think you’re _man_ enough to convince me to take on a life of virtue and stuffy living then you’re wel-Come-!” Instantly her warm little fingers are at his hole, sending a burst of nerves throughout his entire groin. Slow, simply tracing a little circle to get his attention-to shut him up. Oh no, she had no qualm about any part of his body or hers if it delivered pleasure it seemed. “C-can we expedite the process Sheriff I’m a little-,”

“Patience is a virtue.”

“Criminals don’t care about virtue,” He groans trying to press back into her hand-the bars getting in the way and adding to the frantic tension in his entire body. “Come on Ime-Sheriff-...”

“Show some respect bandito.” Suddenly her other hand is in hair-tugging it tight enough to make his head roll back. It’s not painful enough to distract him from the ache in his cock, but it’s a stern reminder of just how annoyed she was with him.

“Fine, _por favor-“_

“That doesn’t sound very _sincere,”_ Too slowly, her index finger is pressing the pad against his entrance-stretching his ass so subtly, a firecracker of nerves without any sort of relief to the itch.

“Dios mio,” He hisses in frustration gritting his teeth, trying to adjust his body-feeling annoyance nearly suffocating him as sweat begins to run from his brows down his nose.

“I’m _waiting_ Bandito.” Taking a steadying breath to clear his head-to find the words, to sing them out in a god damn plea if she so wanted it, Hèctor forces a word.

“ _Por…favor._ I, I won’t…I’ll be more mindful of the law.” Thank God it works, slowly her finger presses within him, filling him with a wonderful warmth and gentle stroke of relief to the ache. But it lasts only a second, he needs more-his cock is throbbing and he needs more or surely he’ll break the irons off with the rush of adrenaline.

“Will you now? Just mindful?” Fuck she’s just holding her finger there, letting his ass throb across it. The hand in his hair is gently massaging the back of his head-perhaps unconsciously, or consciously, he can’t piece it together.

“Fine- _fine,_ I’ll be **respectful** of the law!” Gracias por Dios it works. Delicious, small spurts of relief as her finger cocks up and in against his interior-finding a spot she practiced very hard to become familiar with inside him. The way he’s panting now he isn’t cold at all, the heat is rushing him from both the front and back.

“Now that sounds like a man learning his lesson. You know…not all Sheriffs are as kind as me. Some could be much harsher.” The play leaves her voice just a moment. A warmth settles in the middle of his back-surely her forehead. “I’d be…very upset if something happened to you…Hèctor.”

Ah. He was an idiot.

“Lo-…lo siento Imelda.” He pants gently, closing his eyes. Of course she was worried. No matter the strings she could potentially pull-all it would take was one pissed off hombre with a shotgun to teach his scrawny ass a lesson. So that was the point of this whole show. Well no one could call her uncreative about getting the point across.

“You better be,” Her head comes off his back, tone jumping back to one more commanding. A second finger presses inside swiftly to his relief and supervise, milking out a moan. They stretch the hole in the best way, ramming up into his prostate that he grunts out harshly.

“I-I am! D-don’t stop-oh por favor just don’t-,” His voice has dropped to a huskier, frantic series of pants. Oh please don’t let anyone walk by the jail house now.

“Then say it!” Her fingers assert the point with a rough jerk.

“I-, I’m sorry, I won’t break the law-I won’t disrespect the sheriff-I’ll be-be a model citizen-and w-won’t worry y-you,” His body is desperately rocking into the bars ignoring if it’ll leave him bruised later, desperately trying to increase the sensation as his cock burns.  He lifts his arms above his head and grips the bars before the stupid handcuffs can smack him in the stomach again.

“Really I don’t believe you…” She threatens, fingers slowing and he nearly shouts at her.

“Never again! I will never disrespect the law in Santa Cecilia again! Por favor just-,” Finally he seems to have touched on the right words because her free hand reaches through the bars, taking hold of his cock in a firm grip.

“Oh fuck finally-,” He sighs and groans with relief arching into her hand.

“Say it again,” And she begins to stroke his cock as slowly as she does the fingers inside him.

“I’ll never-I’ll never break the law-Sheriff-,” The sensations are finally taking over the ache, finally bringing him near the edge of relief and he’s just about weep if she stops again, “I’ll never break the law Sheriff-Never again-never-!” Words leave him-his head is swimming beyond all rational thought.

Against his neck he feels her own excited breath, the rush of in her tone as she obliges his plea. The fingers in his ass go faster, her wrist beating against his cheeks. A strange contrast to the delicate lace of her sleeves brushing his flesh each time it does. The hand across his cock slides up to the tip, vigorously curling her thumb and forefinger around the curved swollen head, pressing down the most sensitive nerves beneath his foreskin.

The law finally fucked him over in the right way-and he comes in a nearly painful burst. Biting down his lip so the world doesn’t think a criminal is being put to death. The only sounds now is their combined panting, and the soft jingle of the handcuffs against the bars as he slowly lowers his arms.

“Gracias…Sheriff.” He manages a little smirk, a happy sleepiness running over his senses-the game and his point far from his mind. “I think…I think I’ve learned my lesson.” More tenderly than before her hands come off him and he hears her rustling in her pockets for her handkerchief.

“You better.”

“I swear to God, now…can I come out?” He slowly spins around to face her, adjusting the poncho to cover his nudity once more.

“Hm…” Oh how dare she play coy when her own face was so red and excited from their game too.

“Imelda,” He groans. “I said sorry-I meant it.” By the grace of God she finally goes over to the key ring and tosses it in his direction and he catches them like his life depends on it.

“I’m holding you to it.”

“I _swear_ on my life-on Ernesto’s life-,”

“Ha! Like that means much when he’s likely to get himself shot over seducing a married woman.” Contemplatively, she takes off the sheriff’s hat setting it on the desk once more and smoothing her sweat messed hair back into the bun.

He makes quick work of the irons (in case she changes her mind), and barely gets the jail cell opened when she’s pressing a mop against his chest.

“Really Imelda?”

“Clean up the mess you made-we’re respecting the law now aren’t we?” The satisfied smile on her face makes him question who was the one that just got off. With a very exaggerated roll of his eyes he takes the mop and turns about to clean the evidence of their little game off the floor.

“Can I at least get my underwear back?”

“I think a…breezy walk home will help you remember your lesson.” She adds pulling them off the hook and folding the fabric into her bag.

“And if people ask why I’ve decided to go for the half-dressed poncho look?” He snorts against the mop. It probably wouldn’t be as funny of a concept to him if he hadn’t just come.

“…You’re good at coming up with explanations. Aren’t you?” Ah. She wins.


End file.
